


Claimed

by circ_bamboo



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-12
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circ_bamboo/pseuds/circ_bamboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Number One rescues Pike from a crime lord who is keeping him chained up in embarrassingly skimpy underwear. For the challenge at <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/het_idcrack/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/het_idcrack/"><strong>het_idcrack</strong></a>, prompt found <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/het_idcrack/2559.html">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claimed

**Author's Note:**

> I stole Cait Barry from _Vulcan's Glory_ (awesome book; try it sometime) and diamondium and Omicron Persei VIII from _Futurama_. Everything else either belongs to Paramount or my own brain. If it's awesome, it's probably Paramount's. I promoted Number One to Commander because it makes more sense this way.

"We're sorry," the Hadarian said, "but your captain is not available at the moment."

"In what way is he not available?" Number One asked. Captain Pike had gone down with only a single security officer twelve hours before, which was against regulations, and they hadn't heard anything from him for the last nine hours. Finally, CPO Garrison had gotten a hold of the Hadarian Elders, and that was their answer. It was, of course, entirely unacceptable.

The Hadarian's eyes—all seven of them—shifted from left to right twice before zie answered. "He is no longer in the building."

"Where exactly is he?" Number One's speech got incrementally slower and perhaps even a touch softer; it was the only outward sign of her displeasure. Inside she was calculating the firepower of the _Yorktown_ versus the planet's defenses. If Captain Pike were dead, she would pull no punches.

The alien did xer shifty look again and wobbled a few tentacles before saying, "We have reason to believe that he is underground."

Well, that would explain why his biosigns weren't appearing on the scanners. "What exactly is he doing underground, and when may we expect him back aboveground?"

"We have no estimate as to when he will be back aboveground," the Hadarian answered.

"What. Exactly. Is. He. Doing. Underground." Number One's voice was as hard as the diamondium mined on Hadar.

The alien sighed, or at least the Universal Translator interpreted xer gesture that way. "He has, according to our security, been kidnapped."

"By whom?" This was rather tedious. Pike might have likened it to pulling teeth, she thought.

"By the Elithiori. You might describe them as crime lords, or a rogue faction."

"There's always a rogue faction," Garrison muttered, but Number One ignored him.

"Have you made any efforts to retrieve him?"

The Hadarian's eyes shifted again. "It is—somewhat complicated, Commander."

"Complicated how?" Diplomacy was not One's strong suit. Tactics, sure; flying, any day; polite manipulation, no. She momentarily wished Captain Pike were having this conversation—he'd have gotten the answer out of them five minutes ago—but dismissed the wish for utter lack of logic.

"The Elithiori are led by the child of the Second Elder." Of course. A family disagreement, so the council of Elders couldn't speak as one. The briefing Spock had prepared on the planet had said something about that. If Number One had had any less than perfect control, she might have pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off the impending headache.

"So you won't help us."

"We may not, Commander One."

"But you will not bar us from rescue."

"We will not, Commander."

Number One did not sigh. Garrison sighed, though. "Will you tell us where the underground location might be?"

"We cannot aid you, but they typically are located in old diamondium mines. We have a piece of surveillance video available."

"Thank you," One said. "Please send it along. And do you know the location of Lieutenant Merripen?"

"We believe that the one called Merripen was killed in the altercation. We do have his corpse available."

"Of course." Damnit. "We'll make arrangements for that. Thank you."

"We wish you luck, Commander One." The aliens cut the transmission.

"Spock—"

"I have already located two likely sites, Commander, and the surveillance video is uploaded to the station behind you."

"Good. You stay here. I'm going down. Tyler, you're with me." One pushed the comm button. "Dr. Boyce, I need you or a medic to come with me to rescue the captain. Transporter room in ten minutes. One out." She pushed another button. "Barry, Spock will send you coordinates. Drop us off there and be prepared to retrieve us on very short notice."

"I'm coming with you, sir," Lt. Cmdr. Caitlin Barry answered.

One considered rolling her eyes, but didn't. "Give the coordinates to Lieutenant Sjambak, then. Ten minutes, Lieutenant Commander."

"Yes, sir."

One turned to the station with the video and punched a button. The clip showed the greenish-grey spidery aliens carrying—nude? Well, at least partially undressed, and definitely unconscious—Captain Pike over one of xer shoulders towards an opening in the ground. What the hell were they doing to him? She stood up. "Let's go."

  
* * *

As luck would have it, the first mine site was the one. One and Cait stunned the security guards and sneaked in, with Tyler and Ensign Jarvis the medic following. They had to stun another three sets of security guards as they wended their way through tunnels, going by a rough map Spock had provided. They got to the main compound without suffering any injuries or becoming more than slightly lost.

The main compound was a building inside a large chamber. Cait did a quick scan and produced a basic plan of the building. There was a large room in the middle that One thought might be a good place to start, and she tapped the tricorder's display with one finger. Tyler and Barry nodded, and Jarvis shrugged. With hand gestures, Number One indicated that she would go in first, and they were to follow her—Tyler, then Jarvis, then Cait bringing up the rear.

The away team made it to the main room before they encountered more than a handful of Elithiori. One stood outside the door to the main room and paused just a moment before turning the corner and entering the room, phaser out. Tyler and Barry followed right behind her. The room held perhaps fifty Hadarians, all sitting around tables, all holding weapons of their own, although not pointed at the intruders. The leader—or at least the Hadarian sitting at the table on a dais—stood, as much as tentacled-spidery-seven-eyed aliens stood, and asked, "Who are you and why have you come here?"

Number One answered without lowering her aim. "I am Commander One of the U.S.S. _Yorktown_ , and I have come to rescue my captain."

" _Your_ captain?"

One didn't like the look on the alien's face. "Yes, _my_ captain." She imitated xer emphasis.

"He is . . . desirable, by your standards?"

One heard Cait unsuccessfully stifle a snort. "He's my commanding officer," she said. "Return him to me, and we will not shoot."

The leader rolled all seven of xer eyes. "Did you think I would return him to you without getting something in return?"

One blinked and lowered her phaser. "I expected nothing."

"Well. You can have your captain back if you complete two tasks."

Two tasks. Three tasks was more traditional, but two was better. "What tasks?"

"You must locate your captain within this building, using no mechanical aids, and you must deliver a message to the Second Elder."

One's mind whirred. This was a ploy to deliver a message. Damn the Hadarians and their family feuds. It must have been very lucky for this specific faction when the _Yorktown_ had initiated contact with the Elders. "We accept."

"Of course. He is, after all, _your_ captain." The Elithiori leader didn't exactly steeple xer fingers and tap them together, being that zie didn't have fingers, but zie certainly gave that impression. "Please place your scanners on the table. We will not touch them."

She actually believed them when they said that, being that they appeared to be hoping that she succeeded. "Barry. Tyler. Jarvis." The three humans stepped forward and placed their tricorders, phasers, and comm units on the table. It was a large, square room with four doors leading out, one on each wall, and two alcoves on each side of each door. One thought they might as well start searching in the obvious places. The team members crowded around her.

"Now how are we supposed to do this?" Cait whispered. One gestured at her to wait and recalled Spock's briefing on Hadar.

Ahhh, that was it. "Hold your breath," she instructed the rest of the crew. The Hadarians didn't breathe via lungs; they absorbed oxygen and nitrogen directly through the scales and skin of their tentacles. If anyone else was breathing in that building, it would be Captain Pike, and Number One's hearing was probably acute enough to detect it. The humans obediently held their breaths, which gave her about thirty seconds to walk the perimeter of the room. "Breathe," she called, when she saw Lt. Tyler waving his hand. The three gasped, and held their breaths again.

The Hadarian looked interested and actually remained still, which reinforced her idea that the test was barely a test. Wait—there it was, a faint, muffled sound. She walked a few feet further and stopped in front of an alcove covered in a tapestry of some sort, and said, "Here."

The aliens made a clicking noise which she realized, after a moment, was their version of applause. The tapestry fell down and behind it, perhaps two feet beyond her nose, was Captain Pike. He was chained to the wall, his arms above his head and his ankles shoulder-width apart, and gagged but not blindfolded. Blue eyes met gray, and he smiled despite the fabric in his mouth. She backed up a step without realizing it, and only then registered that he was naked. Well, almost naked—he was wearing . . . was that a red thong? Whatever it was, it was skimpy red underwear, and she dragged her eyes back up his chest to his face and realized he was laughing. What? She'd come all the way down here to rescue him and he was chained to a wall and laughing at her?

Number One backed up two more steps, turned to the table, and said, "I have found Captain Pike. Release him and give me the message, and I will give my word that I will deliver it."

"That was not the agreement," the Hadarian said.

Cait Barry rolled her eyes and stepped forward. "So release Captain Pike to Commander One and _I'll_ go deliver the message."

"Who is this?" the Hadarian asked.

"Lieutenant Commander Barry, Chief Engineer of the U.S.S. _Yorktown_ ," One said. "She is trustworthy."

"You and your Captain will wait here until the Lieutenant Commander returns," the Hadarian said.

"Of course," One said. "She will take Tyler with her." She indicated the blond Lieutenant.

One of the aliens handed a small flat piece of plastic to Cait, and proceeded to give her instructions as to where to deliver it. Another came over to the captain and released his wrists from the chains. Once zie let go, he fell, but Number One caught him under one arm and eased him to the ground. "Jarvis," she snapped, and the medic grabbed her tricorder off the table and came over to scan Pike as Number One untied the gag.

"He's dehydrated and probably hungry, but physically okay," she reported after a moment, while the Hadarian unshackled his ankles. "Some slight damage to the muscles and tendons in his shoulders, but mostly fatigue." Tyler and Barry retrieved their instruments from the table, Tyler throwing One's comm at her. She caught it without looking.

"I could have told you that," Captain Pike said. "My arms hurt, too," he added. He shifted so he was sitting on a corner of the tapestry and One realized that the back of his . . . underwear . . . _did_ leave his rear almost entirely bare. She knelt next to him, strangely unsure of what exactly to do.

Ensign Jarvis pulled a blanket out of her medikit and draped it helpfully over the captain. One irrationally wished the blanket wasn't there for a moment, and mentally kicked herself. Of course he was much more comfortable with a blanket over him. It wasn't that warm in the alien compound.

Pike was watching her, his head cocked slightly to one side. "Number One?"

"Sir?"

"Is everything okay?"

"I should be asking you that, sir." One shifted so there were a couple more inches between her and her nearly-nude commanding officer.

"Well, I'm woefully underdressed for the party," he said, smiling like he was inviting her to share the joke. She tried to smile back, but knew it didn't reach her eyes. He was . . . too close. She shifted away another inch or so and prayed that Cait would return quickly.

She didn't, but Pike's next question was, "You left Spock on the ship?"

"Although you would prefer that he have more away-mission experience before he returns to the Academy, regulations indicated that was the proper course of action with you out of commission."

"Of course," he said. "Can't possibly break a regulation." He smiled again.

"Not if there's a choice," One said. She wished he'd stop smiling and at least _pretend_ they were on a dangerous away mission, though. It was—unsettling.

When Cait finally returned, Tyler a couple feet behind her and the Hadarian they'd sent as well a couple feet behind him, she said, "Okay. I delivered your message. We're leaving now."

The Hadarian behind Tyler said, "She did deliver the message."

"You are free to go," the Elithiori leader said. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Can you stand?" One asked Pike, pointedly ignoring the Hadarians.

"I can try," he said. She stood up and held out both hands. He took them and she pulled until he stood, a bit shakily. The blanket slid from his shoulders, and she released his right hand to pull it back up. "Thanks, Commander," he said. She nodded, and let him sling his left arm over her shoulder, the blanket trapped between them. Ensign Jarvis came up to his right side, but he waved her off. "I think Number One's got me."

The medic nodded, and, with Tyler and Barry, headed for the door. Cait gave Number One a raised eyebrow before she turned to leave.

"I'd thank you for your hospitality, but it wasn't the best I've ever had," Pike said to the aliens.

"You were necessary," the leader said.

"You're welcome," Pike said. "Let's go," he said to One, and they headed out. She concentrated as hard as she could on her footsteps and almost, but not quite, managed to ignore the fact that she was pressed against the warm side of her captain, only a thin medical blanket away from his skin. As they walked, she could feel him still shaking, and belatedly realized that the laughter and jokes were just a thin veneer over shock or pain or exhaustion. She tightened her arm around his waist somewhat and was rewarded with a long, not entirely steady exhalation and a little more of his weight.

Once they'd make the trek back to the surface, One commed the _Yorktown._ "Five to beam up, Lieutenant."

  
* * *

Boyce inspected Pike, ran a regen over his shoulders, and ordered him to eat and get some rest. Barry, Jarvis, and Tyler returned to duty, and One relieved Spock on the bridge. The rest of the shift was uneventful, and One managed to write up her mission report while watching the starfield fly by.

When returning to her quarters, she paused the turbolift and closed her eyes. Intellectually, she knew she should go and sleep, or at least review the reports from the rest of the staff for the last twenty-four hours. Emotionally, she wanted to go check on Captain Pike. It was completely irrational and he was undoubtedly asleep, so she stuffed the emotion back down where it came from, went to her quarters, and tried to get at least _some_ rest.

  
* * *

Before alpha shift came back around, she went to the officers' mess, knowing that Captain Pike usually had breakfast before going on duty. He wasn't there, but Yeoman Colt was, taking a tray from the food slot. "Mia, how's the captain doing?" she asked, voice carefully neutral.

"He sent me to get him breakfast," the strawberry-blonde chirped.

Number One's stomach clenched, but she said, "I was going to consult with him on the report from yesterday's mission. I'll take his tray to him."

"Of course, sir." Colt handed her the tray. "He asked for bacon but Dr. Boyce said no."

One took the tray and headed for the captain's quarters. She touched his door, and when he said, "Come," she entered. Captain Pike was sitting on his couch with a data padd and stylus. He stood when she came in. "Number One," he said. "You must have intercepted Mia."

He was wearing his uniform, but his feet were bare, Number One noticed suddenly. Her mouth went dry, and she had to swallow before she answered, "Yes. I was going to discuss yesterday's mission with you."

"I hope you left the red thong out of your report. I certainly did," Captain Pike said, smiling at her. "Please, sit."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach again, and she set the tray on the table next to him, perching at the opposite end of the couch. He retook his end, tucking one foot under him. "It was not necessary to mention it, sir," she said.

"Chris," he said.

"Sir?"

"My first name is Christopher, which, of course, you know, as you've used it before. If you're here eating breakfast with me—" he gestured to the tray "—then you should call me Chris."

"Yes, sir. Chris," she said. Half of her wanted to crawl into a corner and die, and the other half wanted to—Well. Whatever that other half wanted to do was immaterial, so she did neither. She was a Starfleet officer, after all, and had every right to discuss missions over breakfast with her CO. Even if he was barefoot. "Dr. Boyce vetoed the bacon," One added.

Captain Pike—Chris—sighed. "Of course he did." He picked up the plate of eggs and a fork and started eating. After a moment, he gestured at the tray. "Help yourself."

There wasn't really enough food for two people and Number One had eaten a grapefruit earlier, but she took half a piece of toast and nibbled on one corner. "How did the aliens chain you to the wall?" she asked.

"I was unconscious at the time," he said. One's eyes flew to his head, but there wasn't a bump on his head and there hadn't been yesterday; she would have noticed. His hair was a little disheveled but otherwise normal. "They used a drug," Capt—Chris explained. "Hypoed me with something so fast-acting that it was completely out of my system by the time Phil got a hold of me, but there was a trace of the entry on my neck." He pointed with his fork. Number One's eyes dropped to his neck briefly and then returned to his face. "I woke up, and I was chained to the wall, wearing an embarrassingly small amount of clothing. No idea where they got the thong from. I don't suppose it matters." He shook his head, grimacing. "I wasn't particularly hurt, but it wasn't a lot of fun being restrained inside a dark alcove, underground, where I knew the sensors wouldn't reach, held captive by unidentified, possibly hostile Hadarians. When I heard your voice—" He looked up, caught her eyes. "Well, I knew I could relax."

"I suspect the entire test was highly rigged," One said after a moment, and dropped her gaze to the toast.

"Of course," he said. "I was just an excuse to bribe an outsider into delivering a message. I was hidden so poorly that all you'd have to do was ruffle the curtains of the alcoves and you'd find me. Clever, though, listening for my breathing. Excellent job remembering the briefing."

"Thank you, sir. Chris." One set down the remainder of the toast on the tray and folded her hands in her lap.

Chris set down the empty plate and looked at her, his head tilted. "Is something wrong, Number One?"

"No, sir. Chris. Why do you ask?" She made an effort to relax her hands.

He blinked a couple times. "Well, you're as stiff as a poker, you won't unbend enough to call me anything other than 'sir,' you haven't zinged me once, you're fidgeting, and I could swear you blushed a few minutes ago. You're acting completely out of character, One, and if I said or did something to make you uncomfortable, I'd like to know what it was. Unless you're not comfortable discussing it with me," he added, face suddenly expressionless.

Number One swallowed and licked suddenly-dry lips. "It's a personal matter, sir," she said.

He nodded. "Okay. Do you want any more food?" he asked. At her shake of her head, he picked up the tray and went to set it outside the door. She watched his rear end as he walked by, and closed her eyes. This was exceptionally unfortunate.

She started when a hand touched her shoulder. "One," Chris said. "You appear to be too distracted to concentrate at the moment. I'll be here all day. Phil thinks I need more sleep. We can finish talking about the mission later."

One stood and looked at him. He smiled at her; she saw warmth and concern, but the lines in his forehead and between his brows were more prominent than usual. Sleep. Yes. Undoubtedly he needed more sleep. "Yes. I will see you later." She escaped before he said anything else.

  
* * *

Cait was in her quarters and not asleep, fortunately. "Hey, One. What's wrong?"

Number One sighed and passed her hand over her face. "I don't know," she admitted.

"I don't believe you for one minute," Cait said. "I know what's wrong, you know what's wrong, and you want my advice on what to do about it."

One sat decorously in Cait's spare chair. "He—he says things, Cait, that make me think—" She sighed.

"What, that he wants you? He does. You know how he keeps setting you up to make sarcastic remarks at him? That's flirting. And the way he looks at you?" Cait mock-fanned herself. "Plus, good lord, the way he looked in that thong? How the hell could you resist?"

Number One opened her mouth to deny Cait's allegations, but what came out instead, in a shocking lapse of control, was, "He is awfully gorgeous undressed, isn't he?"

Cait nodded. "Mm-hm. Wait, you've seen him in his skivvies before?"

"Well, yes, but they were Starfleet regulation skivvies, which aren't quite as—revealing. We were on the desert planet a few months ago, do you remember?"

"I wasn't there, but I remember the report." Cait looked at One. "So what are you doing here again?"

One opened her mouth, then closed it. "I'm not thinking straight."

"Stop thinking," Cait advised. "What do you _want_ to do right now?"

 _Pin him to the bed and show him that he's_ mine _and the damn Hadarians can't have him,_ One thought and promptly turned bright red.

Cait laughed. "Go." She all but shoved her out the door and pointed her in the direction of Captain Pike's quarters.

  
* * *

"Come," Capt—Pike—Chris said to her hail at the door, and she stepped in. "Hello, Number One." He stood, setting aside his padd and stylus. "Feeling better?"

"Hello, Chris," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Not that different from a half hour ago," he said. "A little bored, though. Nothing hurts, and I've gotten enough sleep and food, but Phil won't clear me for work until alpha tomorrow." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ah," One said, and drew a deep breath. "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

"Of course," he said, and looked at her expectantly.

One closed her eyes and drew a second deep breath. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding tightly.

Barely a heartbeat passed before his arms came up to wrap around her, and he buried his face in her shoulder. She raised a hand and threaded her fingers through his hair, stroking behind his ear with her thumb. He inhaled, and let out a long, shuddering sigh. _Mine,_ she thought, and tightened her grip.

"Yes, yours," he whispered in her ear.

She blinked, not realizing she'd spoken aloud. Well, there it was, and he'd agreed. What did she do now? _Stop thinking,_ Cait's voice said in her head, and she almost chuckled. She pulled back, slightly, and captured his lips with hers.

He responded quickly, returning the pressure and heat, sliding his tongue against hers. When they finished, he rested his forehead against hers. "One, I—"

"Shh," she said, touching her fingertips to his lips. "You need this. I need this." She pushed onto her toes for a second kiss. His hands slid to her waist to pull her in closer, and she felt him smile against her lips.

"Just so we're clear," Chris murmured in her ear in between kisses, "this is not a one-night stand, and you were interested prior to my recent state of undress, correct?"

His voice—low, dark, and rich—sent tingles down her spine and heat to pool between her legs. "Correct on both counts, Captain. Although—" she slid one hand down to his rear end "—it was an enjoyable view."

His chuckle vibrated against her chest. "I thought I caught you staring on Omicron Persei VIII." He placed a kiss on the soft skin behind her ear, and she gasped. "Also in the gym a couple months ago." He kissed the side of her neck. "And at the last diplomatic function, when I was wearing the dress uniform." Pushing the neck of her uniform down, he kissed her collarbone.

"You're gorgeous no matter what you're wearing." She touched the side of his face to bring his lips back to hers, and while he was distracted, worked one hand under his tunic and undershirt to find bare skin. He gasped against her mouth, then reached up and tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair; it fell around her shoulders. She dropped her other hand to his waist and drew his tunic up and over his head, only breaking the kiss at the last moment.

The black undershirt outlined his chest and shoulders wonderfully, but One only hesitated a moment before she helped him pull the undershirt out from his waistband and off, to drop on the floor. "Nice," she said. She speared her fingers through his chest hair, ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, and pulled him in for a kiss.

Chris took control long enough to pull her shirt and tunic over her head, and then kissed her senseless again while he unhooked her bra and dropped it in the floor, too. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed. "Couch or bed?"

"Bed," she replied, and backed him up until he was sitting on the edge of the bunk and she was straddling him. They were too close in height for One to accomplish much from that position, so she tapped his shoulders until he leaned back onto his elbows, the muscles in his abdomen bunching. She slid down the length of his body until she was kneeling on the floor between his feet, and unbuttoned his pants. With his help, she pulled both the pants and the black regulation boxer-briefs down his hips, carefully freeing his erection. When she raised her eyes to his face, his eyebrows were raised, but he was smiling as well. "Well?" he asked.

"On the bed," she said, and he shifted until he was lying full-length on the bunk. _Where to start?_ she thought, staring at him. A line from an old children's story floated out of her subconscious: _"Begin at the beginning," the King said gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop."_ Good plan. She stood, shucked off her pants, underwear, boots, and socks, and went to the foot of the bed.

She knelt on the very edge of the bed—the bunks weren't large—and picked up his left foot, her thumbs pressing into the sole. He groaned. "That feels amazing."

One dug her thumbs into the arch for another moment or so before pressing a kiss to the top of his foot and moving up to his ankle. She found the hollow behind the protruding bone, traced the back of his Achilles tendon, and slowly slid her hands up to his calf, kissing his shin. His breathing accelerated, although he didn't say anything and she didn't look up. Not yet. She reached his knee, ran her thumbs around his kneecap, and kissed the tendon just inside. His breath hitched, and she did look up, but he was merely staring at her, intent.

She smiled at him, feeling positively wicked, and backed up to grab his right foot. Chris laughed, and then groaned again when she pressed her thumbs right below the ball of his foot. She kissed the inside of his ankle, and licked a stripe up his shin as she stroked his calf.

One did not rush; he needed to relax, and she wanted to know every inch of him. She continued exploring the back of his knee with her mouth, but slid one hand up the outside of his thigh to his hip. "One, you're killing me here," Chris said, his voice rough.

She looked up at him, and her hair fell over her shoulders. "Patience, Captain." She paused. "Chris."

"Either, both," he said, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the mattress.

She knelt between his ankles, resting one hand on each thigh, and glided her hands upward until they reached his hips—and stopped, sitting back on her heels. "Over," she said, tapping one of his hips.

He looked at her, furrowing his brow. "Over?"

"Turn over, Chris," she said, putting a little of the command tone into her voice. He obeyed, careful not to kick her, and propped himself up on his elbows so he could look back at her.

"Down flat." He watched her carefully as he pushed the pillow out of the way and then lowered his head to the mattress.

She could really get used to this, she thought. Crawling up the bed, she looked at his rear end for a moment before filling her hands with it. He tensed, and she dug her nails in lightly. His breath caught again. _Point for me_. His ass absolutely felt as good as it looked, and she was really, really happy to know that. She bent her head and pressed a kiss at the base of his spine.

Also, he tasted just as good as he looked. One licked her way up his spine in one long stroke until she got to the back of his neck. She bit where his shoulder met his neck, lightly, and buried her nose in the short hairs just above there. He smelled amazing, as well. _Damn._ What else had she been missing?

She traced the muscles in his back with hands and mouth, watching them flex as he shifted minutely. Eventually she pushed up and off the bunk, tapping Chris on the side. "On your back."

"Yes, sir," he said, turning. She straddled him, and stroked his shoulders gently. He'd said nothing hurt, but she was careful as she massaged around the joints, and he sighed. Pinning his hands with hers, she leaned in for a kiss. He returned it, lifting his hips to thrust against her. She ground down against him briefly before returning her attention to his mouth. Sliding her lips along his jaw, she feathered kisses down his throat to his collarbone.

He was exceptionally sensitive there; as she nibbled just to one side of the hollow of his throat, he gasped and strained against her hands. She let go immediately— _oh, no, he'd been restrained, what on earth was I doing, that was_ stupid—but he didn't move. "No, it's fine," he said, and she laced her fingers back through his.

 _Interesting._ "Why, Chris," One said, "I might almost think you like being under me." She shimmied her hips to punctuate her statement.

"What gave you that idea?" he asked, breathless, and then laughed. "Only you, One."

She grinned, and kissed him again, all tongue and heat. When she finally pulled away, she searched his face—for what, she couldn't say. But she found it, somewhere between his kiss-swollen lips, the crinkles around his eyes, and the line of sweat at his temple. Pushing his hands over her head, she said, "Keep them there," and let go, swiping her hands down his arms to his chest.

He did, even as she drew her hands further down his body and took him in her mouth. "Oh, God, One, _please_ ," he said, long moments later.

She smiled and let him slip out of her mouth. "Please, what?" she asked.

"Please let me touch you?" he said, sounding strained.

She sat up, stroking him lazily, and appeared to consider it for a minute before diving forward, placing her hands on either side of his head, and kissing him. "Okay," she said.

His hands shot off the mattress and buried themselves in her hair, sliding down her back to end at her rear. "Ohh," he said quietly. One wasn't entirely sure he knew he'd spoken aloud.

She concentrated on kissing his neck and let him explore her rear, her back, her sides, her thighs, and then, finally, her breasts. Gasping as he rolled her nipples between his fingers, she leaned over further. He took the hint and took her breast in his mouth, sucking.

"Stop," she said, shakily, a moment or two later. He did, and she sat up, shivering. She pushed her hair back behind her ears and looked down at him. Good lord, he was beautiful, all laid out below her, pupils wide, chest rising and falling quickly. He licked his lips, and she closed her eyes as a wave of pure lust made her shudder.

Chris's fingers stole between them and stroked her gently. "You're wet," he said, with a grin. "Might almost think you want me."

"Yes," she said. "Of course." She leaned forward and, with his help, rearranged herself so that she could take him inside her. She sat up slowly, feeling the stretch, and savoring every inch of him.

When her hips were seated fully against his, she pinned his hands down against the mattress again and took his lips. Nipping along his jawline, she reached his ear and whispered, "Mine." She felt him throb inside her as he moaned, and a smile spread across her face.

She sat up and rose up and down, slowly, and Chris groaned. "Oh, One, please." She smiled again, and moved faster—but only a bit. "God, Number One, that feels so amazing, don't stop." She sped up incrementally, and watched him unspool. It was heady, and powerful, and the hottest thing she'd ever seen in her life.

Eventually she leaned forward, changing the angle so that he was hitting the right spot. Chris was reduced to curses, her name, and terms of endearment that she was not going to let fly once they were done, but he was still coherent enough that when she said his name, he looked up and focused on her.

"Touch me," she ordered, and released his hands. He didn't misinterpret; he slid two fingers between them and circled, sending her over the edge. "Oh, Chris," she cried out, shuddering, and fell against his chest. He stroked her hair and let her fall for a minute or two before thrusting upward, gently, clearly asking permission. She inhaled sharply, still sensitive, but nodded and moved with him as he resumed his movements.

Rising above him once again, she watched his face as he held her hips and chased his own completion. She touched his cheek, caught his eyes, and said, in her command voice, "Chris, come for me."

On the next thrust, he did, much to One's surprise, calling her name. She let him recover for a good minute before she rose up and off and lay next to him, her head pillowed on his shoulder and one leg slung over his. He ran his hand slowly up and down her back a few times, and then turned and kissed her, gently but thoroughly. "That was incredible," he said.

She reached up and ruffled his hair, which had formed little sweat-soaked curls around his face. "Yes, it was," she agreed, leaning in for another kiss.

"You're incredible," he said, catching her hand and threading his fingers through hers.

" _We're_ incredible," she corrected.

Chris grinned. "Okay," he said. " _We're_ incredible. Next time we're busy being incredible, I warn you, I'm going to use the command voice on you and see what it does." She shivered, and his arm tightened around her. "I might even call you 'Commander.'"

"I might call _you_ 'Cadet,'" she said, and was rewarded by his full-body shudder. "Well, now, Captain Pike, are there any other fantasies of me in command that you'd like to reveal?" She propped herself up to look at him.

"Any and all," he said, reaching up to trace a line down the side of her face. "My favorite is the one where I've been chained to a wall by some spider-like aliens, wearing only a red thong, and you burst in, claim me as yours, and later pin me to my bed and order me to come for you."

"Oh," One said, her mind whirling. "I think we did that one already." Damn, but she wanted him. "But we can do it again." She rolled back on top of him and kissed him thoroughly. "I'm more than happy to claim you repeatedly."

"What about you?" he asked, a few lazy moments later.

She thought for a moment. "Did you save the red thong?"


End file.
